ec comics – Dark Shadows Commentary

Episode 963: A very bizarre practice

The reigning chief villain on Dark Shadows is a shape-shifting monster from beyond space and time. He refuses to shift his shape, since he likes being a tall young man. He isn’t interested in any part of space or time not connected with heiress Carolyn Collins Stoddard, with whom he has fallen in love. He can’t persuade anyone to call him by his preferred name, “Jabe,” so has resigned himself to going by “Jeb.”

As we open, Jabe is raising four men from the dead. That he can do such a thing might suggest that he is a formidable menace, but the introductory voiceover explains that he has no choice about it, since he is “unable to trust one living human being.” Whatever powers he may have, Jabe is surrounded by enemies whom he can battle only by resorting to the most desperate means. We are left wondering how much longer the show can keep the storyline going if it depends on such a feeble menace.

Jabe and one of the zombies are peeking through the window of the Old House on the estate of Collinwood, home to vampire Barnabas Collins, a distant cousin of Carolyn’s. Jabe sees Barnabas’ best friend, mad scientist Julia Hoffman, giving him an injection. He realizes that Julia is trying to treat Barnabas’ vampirism.

Jabe goes to the great house on the estate and orders Carolyn’s mother, matriarch Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, to keep watch over Barnabas’ blood thrall Megan Todd. Liz is one of Jabe’s few remaining followers. He is crude and abusive towards her; she protests that they are in her house, and when he responds to this with a sneer she gives him a look of disbelief. First-time viewers can understand how Jabe came to be so isolated.

When Barnabas was first on the show, from April 1967 to March 1968, Liz never figured out that he was a vampire. The show depended on keeping Liz in the dark about Barnabas’ curse, because she was too civic-minded to let him stay in a house on her estate if she had known that he was an abomination risen from the depths of Hell to prey upon the living, even if he was her cousin. In those days, the show seemed determined to keep Liz on the shelf lest she be stained by contact with the main story, and so they took care to give Barnabas’ adversaries reasons to keep from telling Liz about him.

Now, Liz is under the control of the forces Jabe represents. She is already hostile to Barnabas, and has told Jabe she would try to evict him from Collinwood if that is what he wants her to do. Jabe does not have any reason to withhold from her the fact that his enemy is a vampire.

Moreover, Liz is no longer the symbol of lawful goodness she was two years ago. In #956, she told eleven year old Amy Jennings that she hoped Jabe wouldn’t murder Maggie Evans, The Nicest Girl in Town. Her first reason for not wanting this to happen was that it would remind people of the other murders Jabe has committed. The second, and more important, was that it would tend to exonerate the person they have framed to keep the heat off Jabe. It seems likely that Jabe will soon defeated and Liz will be released from the spell under which she has been laboring, but if she comes out of that remembering what Barnabas is she will also remember that she herself is complicit in some pretty serious felonies, all of them well-known to Barnabas. Since Liz knows that Barnabas is invested in her position in the community and puts a high priority on protecting it, the show wouldn’t have a hard time explaining why she keeps him around, and she would be available to take part in whatever stories they might have going.

Liz is sitting with Megan. She can see that Megan is ill and goes to fetch her a glass of water. When she returns, Megan has gone. We see Megan at Barnabas’ house. Barnabas is intensely hungry. But he does not want to bite her. He knows that if he does so, she will die. She insists, and he gives in.

Julia enters and pronounces Megan dead. Barnabas is in a panic; he had earlier lied when Julia asked him if he had bitten anyone, and he flies directly into hysteria, accusing Julia of implying that he acted deliberately. She keeps her cool and assures him she does not see it that way. Usually Julia’s quickness to make excuses for Barnabas’ murders is an opportunity for Grayson Hall to amaze us with the spectacle of a brilliant woman rationalizing the behavior of a hopelessly evil man, but this scene is a showcase for Jonathan Frid. So they have taken care to establish that Barnabas was overpowered by the need for blood and have shown him taking steps to avoid biting Megan, allowing us to take Julia’s behavior more seriously and focus on Barnabas’ panic.

Barnabas tells Julia that to prevent Megan rising as a vampire they will have to drive a wooden stake through her heart. Previously Barnabas has simply strangled his victims or broken their necks after they died, and that has kept them from coming back. He did this as recently as #951, when he fed on Jabe’s would-be devotee Nelle Gunston. Regular viewers will know that the trip he and Julia make to the basement to fetch a stake is just a setup for them to return and find Megan already gone. Before that happens, there is a strange moment when Barnabas and Julia have the stake and are talking about driving it through Megan’s heart. Barnabas wants to spare Julia that horror, but she smiles warmly as if assuring him that it is her pleasure to join in the act.

Togetherness. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

Jabe dispatches his four zombie henchmen into the great house, saying that he has given them their orders and now it is time to “Carry them out!” Julia lives in the great house, and is working with some test tubes in her bedroom. It’s the first time we’ve seen Julia’s room in years, and the first time we have seen scientific apparatus of any kind there. One of the zombies knocks on her door, another emerges from behind the curtains, and a third comes up and slaps her in the face. Perhaps remembering Jabe’s words as he sent them into the house, they carry her out.

You can’t say the zombies don’t follow instructions. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

One of the zombies is named Thomas Findley. Longtime viewers will remember Madame Janet Findley, a psychic who made a big impression in three episodes in December 1968, and Margaret Findley, who was one of the ghostly Widows who were prominent in the show’s supernatural back-world in its first 26 weeks. Another zombie is a large bald man who will remind many viewers of Tor Johnson in Plan 9 from Outer Space.

Danny Horn’s post about this one at his great Dark Shadows Every Day is a fascinating comparison of the episode with four issues of Gold Key’s Dark Shadows comic book. Other commentators have mentioned that the graveyard scenes often evoke the sensibility of EC Comics, particularly in the character of The Caretaker, but Danny’s in-depth discussion of what this episode has in common with those four issues is far and away the most substantive analysis I have seen of the overlap between the visual grammar of Dark Shadows and that of comic books.

Episode 932: Just ourselves, and immortality

For most of 1969, Dark Shadows was a costume drama set in the year 1897. Among the characters we got to know were Quentin Collins, Charles Delaware Tate, Count Petofi, and Amanda Harris. Quentin was a rakish libertine and occasional murderer who was cursed to be a werewolf. Tate was an artist. Petofi was a sorcerer who had, for reasons of his own, given Tate the power to paint portraits with magical effects. Tate painted a portrait of Quentin that cured him of the effects both of lycanthropy and of aging. He painted a portrait of an imaginary woman, and she popped into being and became Amanda.

The story of Quentin’s portrait is borrowed from Oscar Wilde’s 1895 novel The Picture of Dorian Gray. The story of Amanda is borrowed from the story of Pygmalion and Galatea that Ovid told in Book 10 of his Metamorphoses. While Pygmalion’s statue of the ideal woman loved him when it came to life, Amanda can’t stand Tate. That’s understandable; like all characters played by Roger Davis, Tate had an intolerable personality. Amanda fell in love with Quentin, who is cruel and evil, but very charming.

Now it is 1970. Quentin has come back to the village of Collinsport, still young and handsome, but suffering from amnesia and unwilling to believe that he is a hundred years old. Amanda is back too. She is also young, not because of the painting, but because a god of death named Mr Best gave her several decades to reconnect with Quentin, get him to say he loves her, and then live with him ever after, perhaps happily.

Mad scientist Julia Hoffman has been working with Amanda to restore Quentin’s memory. Julia, Amanda, and Quentin go to see Quentin’s portrait, which Julia has just had restored. It is suitably gruesome, and Amanda runs out screaming when she sees it. But Quentin examines it, and his memory comes back to him. Julia tells him about Amanda’s deal, and says that Mr Best is on his way. He could catch up with Amanda at any time. Quentin runs out to tell Amanda that he loves her, but gets to the scene a moment too late.

Quentin’s portrait, a face only a fan of EC Comics could love. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

Mr Best takes Amanda to a hotel lobby. She described this lobby to Julia in #922 when she explained her arrangement with Mr Best, but he has to explain it to her today. In #922 he called it “The Stopping-Off Place”; today he calls it “A Passing-Through Place.” He excuses himself, since he has other souls to harvest.

Amanda is alone for a moment with a bellhop in a white costume with an accent that is supposed to be sort of Cockney, or perhaps Australian. The bellhop makes it clear that he used to be alive, and that his current job makes him nostalgic for his days as a human. When he mentions things he can’t do anymore, he looks Amanda up and down for a half second. The wistfulness of his tone, the frankness of his look, and the sadness with which he turns away from her leaves no doubt what he misses. It’s a surprisingly lovely moment, and a much more adult one than we expect from the show at this point.

Back in the land of the living, Quentin and Julia have a scene in Amanda’s suite at the Collinsport Inn. Julia leaves, and Quentin tries to kill himself. Mr Best stops him. He tells him that he knows he is alive “by courtesy of Count Petofi”; this is the first time we have heard Petofi’s name since the show came back from 1897, and the first vague hint that Petofi might have survived the fire that appeared to have killed him in #884. He says that it is not Quentin’s time to die.

Quentin says he doesn’t want to live without Amanda, and Mr Best gets a bright idea. He says he likes experiments, and he has one he will run with the two of them. He takes Quentin to The Stopping Off/ A Passing-Through Place. He explains his idea. As befits Amanda, it is derived from the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice which Ovid tells earlier in Book 10 of the Metamorphoses. As Orpheus was allowed to bring his wife Eurydice back from the realm of the dead so long as they could make the long, arduous journey without looking at each other, so Quentin will be allowed to bring Amanda back so long as they do not touch each other until they return to the sunlight. The episode ends with Quentin deep in thought about this proposition while Amanda walks up behind him, stretching her hand towards him.

Mr Best tells Quentin that if he and Amanda can make their way through the countless traps and perils of the journey back to the upper world, they will be together “for eternity- whatever that means.” It’s intriguing he doesn’t know- he explicitly identifies himself as an immortal being today, and he has such a wide range of discretion that he can only be called a god. Apparently writer Sam Hall is imagining a cosmos where even the gods are left guessing about the answers to the big questions.

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice has long been a popular favorite. In the 1960s, Jean Cocteau’s 1950 Orphée and the 1959 Brazilian hit Black Orpheus were both staples of art cinema and would have been familiar to NYC theater people like the makers of Dark Shadows, so it is hardly surprising that when they start looking to classical antiquity as a source of material that was one of the first stories to come to mind.

This is Emory Bass’ final appearance as Mr Best, and Brian Sturdivant’s only appearance as the bellboy from Hell. Each will return in another small part later this year.

The closing credits roll over an image of Quentin’s portrait. Most of them do, anyway. Sturdivant’s was cut into the middle of the roll over a black background. Apparently they forgot about him until the last minute.

Better late than never. Screenshot by Dark Shadows Before I Die.

Episode 579: One tick of the clock

In the first 38 weeks of Dark Shadows, the best scenes were those between well-meaning governess Vicki and her charge, strange and troubled boy David. The scenes were not especially well-written- at one point, Vicki reads aloud from a textbook describing the geography of the state of Maine- but Alexandra Moltke Isles and David Henesy always found a way to use nonverbal cues to communicate to the audience exactly how matters stood in their characters’ relationship to each other.

Mrs Isles and Mr Henesy haven’t had a two-scene in donkey’s years, and so she has had to find another partner to play off. In recent months, her finest moments have come when she was standing next to the elaborately decorated clock in the foyer of the great house of Collinwood. Today, she stands there while confronting her fiancé, an unpleasant man named Peter who prefers to be called Jeff. She does a great job, and in response Roger Davis, whose performance as Peter/ Jeff was notably insipid in the first half of the episode, comes to life and is himself compelling to watch.

Mrs Isles standing next to her co-star. Also pictured: Roger Davis.

It’s been weeks since Peter/ Jeff has spent time with Vicki, and he has been extremely evasive when she asks him what is keeping him so busy. He has turned down a job offer that would have made it possible for them to start life together on a sound financial footing, again without an explanation. When he asks her simply to accept that he has a good reason, she explodes with “You put everything on that basis, and it’s just not fair!” They go into the drawing room and after he keeps dodging her questions she gives him his ring back.

Peter/ Jeff’s problem is that he is committed to spend all his time helping mad scientist Julia and recovering vampire Barnabas with an experiment meant to bring a Frankenstein’s monster to life, a project he doesn’t feel he can tell Vicki about. Earlier in the episode, he was in the lab in Barnabas’ basement and sneaked a peek at Julia’s notebook. Julia was angry when she caught him with her property. This appears to be the same little red notebook Julia hid from Barnabas in the autumn of 1967, at one point stashing it inside the clock that has such a salutary effect on Vicki.

Later, Vicki dropped by Barnabas’ house. Peter/ Jeff sneaked upstairs to eavesdrop on Vicki’s conversation with Julia. He stands inside the cellar door, which has a barred window. We’ve seen Barnabas’ front parlor through these bars several times, and it always catches my attention. This time, the shot is composed very much in the style of a panel from an old EC horror comic book, a style the show has borrowed in some of its most effective moments.

Peter/ Jeff eavesdrops on Vicki and Julia.

Episode 209: The darkest and strangest secret of them all

Dangerously unstable ruffian Willie Loomis stares at the portrait of Barnabas Collins hanging in the foyer of the great house of Collinwood. The portrait’s eyes glow and the sound of a heartbeat fills the space. Willie’s fellow unwelcome house-guest, seagoing con man Jason McGuire, comes into the room. Willie is surprised Jason can’t hear the heartbeat.

After consulting the Collins family histories, Willie goes to an old cemetery where legend has it a woman was interred with many fine jewels. The Caretaker of the cemetery stops Willie before he can break into her tomb. Willie hears the heartbeat coming from the tomb, but, again to his amazement, the Caretaker cannot hear it.

Yesterday, strange and troubled boy David Collins had told Willie that in some previous century, a pirate fell in love with Abigail Collins, gave her jewels, and that Abigail took those jewels to her grave. Today, Willie repeats this story to wildly indiscreet housekeeper Mrs Johnson, only he identifies the woman as Naomi Collins. Fandom likes to seize on this kind of thing, presenting it either as an error or as a sign of retcons in progress, but I suspect that it is just a clumsy way of suggesting that the characters are hazy on the details of the legend.

The legend itself is very much the sort of thing that inspired Dark Shadows in its first months. ABC executive Leonard Goldberg explained that he greenlighted production of the show when he saw that Gothic romance novels were prominently featured everywhere books were sold. The idea of a grand lady in a manor house somehow meeting and having a secret romance with a pirate is a perfect Gothic romance plot, as for example in Daphne du Maurier’s Frenchman’s Creek. Willie’s fascination with the tale might reflect an accurate assessment of the situation if Dark Shadows were still a Gothic romance, but the show left that genre behind as the Laura Collins storyline developed from #126 to #193. If Willie had been watching the show, he would know that the story David told him is not the one that is going to shape his future as a character on it.

When Willie is wandering around the old cemetery, he twice shines a flashlight directly into the camera and creates a halo effect. The first time might have been an accident on the actor’s part, but the second time the halo frames the Caretaker in a way that is obviously intentional. Patrick McCray’s entry on this episode in his Dark Shadows Daybook describes the Caretaker as “a refugee from the EC universe.” Indeed, Willie’s crouching posture and angry facial expression, the halo filling so much of the screen, the tombstones in the background, and the Caretaker’s silhouetted figure carrying a lantern add up to a composition so much like a panel from an EC comic book that it may well be a conscious homage:

This is our first look at the Tomb of the Collinses.

It’s also the first time we are told the name of the cemetery five miles north of Collinsport in which the Tomb is situated. Mrs Johnson calls it “Eagle’s Hill Cemetery,” though later it will be called “Eagle Hill.” Mrs Johnson also mentions the Collinsport cemetery two miles south of town, and the Collins’ family’s private cemetery located in some other place. They won’t stick with any of this geography for long, though it all fits very neatly with everything we heard about burial grounds in the Collinsport area during the Laura story.